


Contrapposto

by sad_bi_cowboy



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Hannibal Flash Fic #007, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Image Prompt, Jack goes to italy, Jack misses his wife, Multi, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sad_bi_cowboy/pseuds/sad_bi_cowboy
Summary: Jack takes a trip to Italy after retiring and reflects on his choices. The appearance of a few old faces help him out with that.
Relationships: Bella Crawford/Jack Crawford, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 80
Collections: Hannibal flashfic 7





	Contrapposto

Jack wanders aimlessly around the narrow, cobblestone streets of Naples, occasionally checking his phone as if he is expecting an important call. This call won’t come. There is no reason for it to ring. Hell, it’s not as if he expected the new guys to suddenly be able to find two dead men when he had tried and failed for the past eight years. 

It was a wonder he had managed to stay in the FBI for as long as he had after the disaster that was the attempt to stop and catch Francis Dolarhyde. Well, they had certainly stopped him all right, but only after losing an entire convoy, the most dangerous serial killer of the last twenty years or so, and Will Graham. Although, Jack was never sure that they had  _ lost _ Will Graham that night. Will Graham had been lost the instant Jack had pulled up to his and Molly’s sleepy little Maine cabin and asked for his help with the Tooth Fairy. It was the third time that Jack had placed him directly in the path of Hannibal Lector, and the third time was apparently the charm: Will Graham was gone. And this time he had gone for good. 

Jack, despite some appearances, wasn’t blind, nor was he deaf. He had seen the glint in Will’s eyes as he had stared a masked and bound Hannibal up and down and said “Please?” He had known Will’s more,  _ complicated _ feelings about the man, but he thought that he could be forgiven from not thinking that they would have devolved into “brutally murdering a man with him, throwing them off a cliff, and disappearing together after fucking in a secluded house for hours on end.” He has no idea how they managed to keep that last bit of information out of the hands of Freddie Lounds, but he thanks his lucky stars that they had. The last thing he wanted to explain to Molly Graham is why Freddie Lounds is knocking on her door and asking if she knew her husband was in love with the man who had gutted him and killed his surrogate daughter 

They had never found any bodies, never any concrete evidence that the two of them were dead or alive despite the insistence of most of the forensic team that the sheer amount of blood found at the scene, including a particularly large set of smears on the floor by the piano that had indicated some sort of gunshot wound, meant that there was no way they could have survived their wounds even before they fell upwards of 75 feet off a cliff into the Chesapeake Bay. But still, there were no bodies to be found, and as far as Jack was concerned, he wanted Hannibal’s vacant, dead eyes staring back at him before he would count the man as finally gone. 

But the endless turning of the FBI bureaucratic wheel meant that only so much thought was given to his insistence that the two of them were not dead. After all, there were no bodies, nor was there a trail of bodies popping up in the following weeks that would indicate the Chesapeake Ripper was alive and well. So, Jack had swallowed his pride and stopped his hunt, played into the politics inherent in having any position of authority in the FBI. He had stayed until he got to the minimum retirement age with full benefits and settled into a small house on the Potomac that he had bought soon after Bella had passed.

He got a dog, and a collection of fine wines and cookbooks. 

He travelled too, sometimes. Which is how he finds himself back in Italy, finds himself back in front of a chapel that he and Bella had visited in their time off when they were stationed there. The Museo Cappella Sansevero, near the waterfront and surrounded by more restaurants and cafes than you could shake a stick at. The small café he is sitting at now sipping an espresso is one he had gone to with Bella, about halfway between the museum and the path on the waterfront. 

He remembers the first time he had come to this café. Bella - with the biggest smile on her face - had pulled him by the arm to the front of a little place with the entrance almost completely obscured by a giant potted plant and a chalkboard sign saying the menu for that day. He remembers fumbling through an order for the both of them in his still shaky Italian, and had mistakenly ordered three cappuccinos instead of two. Bella had thought that was hilarious. She was fluent in Italian, but she had always insisted that Jack do most of the talking to practice. So, this had resulted in Jack not only ordering extra coffees, but also almost getting into a bar fight because of a misplaced accent. After that, Bella had been more willing to chime in after that incident. 

Jack finishes his espresso and gets up to make his way to the Cappella Sansevero in no particular hurry. It’s not like he has any schedule to meet. He is a retired man after all. 

He enters the museum with a crowd of English tourists and immediately peels off to go into a more quiet corner that housed one of his favorite pieces in the place. 

It’s a statue by Antonio Corradini called Modesty. The marble has been rendered into sheer fabric draped over her body, and strings of marble flowers follow the line of drapery over her groin. Bella had given him a whole art history lecture when she had shown it to him, saying that although the marble fabric had been chiseled to specifically accentuate the woman’s breasts, the fabric draping at her groin still made her “modest.” Over the years he had forgotten the minute details of everything she had told him, but seeing one of her favorite statues in Italy in the flesh made it seem that Bella was standing right next to him, excitedly telling him about the politics of 16th century Naples and how they aligned to have Corradini create the piece in front of them. Bella had double majored in International Relations and Art History in college, but she had so rarely gotten the chance to break it out. Probably why her and Hannibal had gotten on so well. 

Through the quiet swell of many people speaking in whispers, Jack catches the even, measured tones of an American accent. A very familiar American accent.

“Why I continue to indulge you is beyond me, especially since all you do when we come to these places is purposefully use obscure Renaissance terms that I can’t possibly understand.” 

Jack is so shocked he finds himself frozen to his spot. There is no way. No way. 

“Why  _ you _ haven’t studied up on more of the main ideas of the Italian Renaissance in the eight years we have had together is beyond me, my darling.” 

Jack turns slowly around to face the interior of the museum. Not twenty feet from him stand two men in hats, one wearing just a white collared shirt with white pants and the other wearing a full, cream colored suit and holding an umbrella in his right hand. His left hand is intertwined with the other man’s right. Their backs are turned to him, but there is no doubt in Jack’s mind as to who stands in front of him. Jack looks around once more and looks back to find himself face to face with Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter.

The eight intervening years have certainly been kind to Will. His skin is bronzed, a nice contrast to the crisp white of his shirt, his hair is neatly cut and curled, and his beard is thick and full with a few streaks of gray giving him a distinguished look. A thin pink line disrupts the line of his beard on the right side of his face, while the one on his forehead has long since faded to white.

Hannibal looks similar to how Jack had always known him, and yet he is at the same time almost completely unrecognizable. He has the scruff of a two day old beard on his tanned face, and his hair has turned salt and pepper gray. It has grown out to longer than Jack had ever seen it, to the point where he has had to have it tied into a small knot at the back of his head. 

“Hello Jack,” Will says, disentangling his hand from Hannibal’s to hold it out for Jack to shake. Dumbfounded at the absurdity of the entire situation, Jack takes it, not knowing what else to do. 

“Hello Will, Doctor Lecter,” he says. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Indeed,” says Hannibal, the corners of his mouth ticking up in his signature, viper’s smirk. “It is getting a little crowded in here, if I do say so myself. Why don’t we go out for a walk? Talk this over in private, if you will?” 

“Sure, why not. At least you won’t kill me in public,” Jack says. He mentally kicks himself. Now was not the time to poke the bear, especially since that bear is a fugitive serial killer accompanied by his lover. 

“We never wanted to kill you, Jack,” Will says as they make their way out of the museum into the streets. 

“I’m sorry if it sounds rude, but you could have fooled me,” Jack says. He feels the remainder of his self-preservation instinct leave him. If this is how he dies, this is how he dies. 

“If I might amend that statement,” Hannibal says, leading them to another café and sitting at an empty table outside. “We have not wanted to kill you for quite a long time now, but certainly in the past it was an option.” 

“Well thank you, Doctor Lecter,” Jack says. “It’s the small comforts in life, it really is.” Still, he sits at the table with Hannibal while Will is sent inside to get their drinks. This all feels vaguely like a dream. When Will returns, Hannibal looks at him like he carries the sun across the sky. Jack can’t believe he didn’t see how stupidly in love Hannibal was with Will earlier than he had. Price and Zeller are finally going to get to settle their bet, it looks like. Freddie Lounds would sell all she had for a picture of Hannibal’s exact expression. 

Will takes Hannibal’s hand in his and kisses his knuckles, and Jack catches a glimpse of a healing bruise just below his collar. They are so obviously in love it’s almost sickeningly sweet. 

He suddenly sees him and Bella in the two of them, getting each other coffee in cafes, making the other listen to their ramblings about their favorite topics, only putting token effort into hiding the many love bites they left on each other. He knows then and there that he will take this encounter to the grave. Even if he went back and told everyone he had met Hannibal and Will in Italy, it wouldn’t matter: they had been declared legally dead two years earlier. And besides, he finds that he can’t bring himself to try and drive a wedge into their very obviously happy new lives. 

He sips his espresso and leans back in his chair. 

“So,” he says. “How have you guys been?”

Hannibal and Will’s grins almost split their faces in two.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow so this is not the best thing that I've every published but I got it in under the wire and you know what? That's an accomplishment.


End file.
